


Odd Offer

by LucoLoco



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucoLoco/pseuds/LucoLoco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a strange way of offering help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Odd Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay, you got me. This is kind of similar to another story I wrote. But shush.
> 
> I was prompted by my friend, who wanted thigh sex with Lestrade. Didn't matter who with, but it had to be with Lestrade.

Greg sighed.

God, he was so stressed out. This case wasn't too difficult, but his crew was at each other's throats, and not even just with Sherlock. Donovan had managed to get into a heated argument with one of the rookies. Worse, John Watson was on an impromptu visit at his sister's, leaving Greg to be the only person who could mediate any and all fights.

He just wanted to go home and lie back on his couch and watch some crap television, not deal with a bunch of people who couldn't put aside their shit and try to get the job done.

But here he was at his office, finally away from his coworked, but still finishing up paperwork on the case.

At about 11 o'clock, Greg heard his office door open. He looked up to find Sherlock coming, removing his jacket, and sitting down in one of the chairs.

“What do you want Sherlock? I'm busy,” Greg said with a huff.

“I'm just checking in on you,” Sherlock replied. Greg couldn't help but laugh.

“Since when do you ever check on other people?” Greg asked. Sherlock managed to look offended. “Come on, Sherlock, in the years that I've known you, you've never really asked me how I've been, and if you did, you never actually _listened_ to my answer.”

“I can't _start_ to worry about my Inspector? I promise, I'm genuinely checking in.” Sherlock insisted. Greg smirked and chuckled.

“Sherlock, I don't...” Greg trailed off. He looked from Sherlock, back to his paperwork, and back to Sherlock. Sherlock seemed to be genuinely interested in hearing what he had to say. Maybe he really wanted to hear how he was. “I'm fine, I guess. I'm just exhausted from today's shit and I still have all this paper work to finish.”

“Oh, well, I can... help with that if you want,” Sherlock offered. Greg laughed.

“Help... the paperwork?” Greg asked, thinking this was what Sherlock was implying.

“No! No, with your stress,” Sherlock answered. Greg cocked his head in confusion.

 

\- - -

Greg wasn't sure how he had gotten to this point. Well, he could recall the events exactly how they happened. Greg was just surprised that they led up to _this,_ him standing behind Sherlock, who was bent over his desk with Greg's dick in between his thighs. It had been Sherlock to propose _this_ as a solution. After a back and forth, Greg caved and let Sherlock kiss. Then the next bits were somewhat of a blur, but it seemed that in the moment, they hadn't bothered to take their clothes off. The most they got off were their trousers, and both were still on, but pooled around their ankles. Though Greg managed to flip his tie over his shoulder at some point.

“Ah, shit,” Greg breathed out. This was nice. He would have liked to be inside Sherlock, but they didn't have lubricant, and, despite Sherlock's claiming to be okay with spit being used, Greg wouldn't have it. Therefore, they improvised.

And so here was Greg, gripping Sherlock's hips as tight as possible, pumping his cock in and out slowly between Sherlock's thighs, up along his perineum and against his balls. Meanwhile, Sherlock had his hand on his cock, trying to jerk off in rhythm with Greg's thrusting, but slowly losing the ability to synchronize their movements.

Greg continued to thrust at a slow pace into Sherlock, occasionally snapping his hips in Sherlock's. He relished the groans that it produced from Sherlock. Greg figured Sherlock liked the feeling of being slammed into. He was going to hold onto that bit of information, in case there was a next time. 

Sherlock's breathing started getting ragged. Greg figured Sherlock was getting close. Greg leaned over so his front was touching Sherlock's back. That's when he started to really grind his hips into Sherlock. God, he was getting close himself. As he neared his orgasm, he dug his face into Sherlock's shoulder. He continued grinding as he felt Sherlock shudder and groan under him. Greg figured he was going to be the one cleaning the semen off his desk. 

When Sherlock sank onto Greg's desk, Greg let go of Sherlock's hips and lowered his hands to squeeze Sherlock's thighs tighter. He ground into Sherlock's thighs while creating as much friction as possible. At this point, his movements must have looked exaggerated and a bit silly the way he was moving his hips back in order to thrust them into Sherlock's thighs. Even so, the intense orgasm he had was worth it. He came, semen dribbling down Sherlock's thighs, shooting onto the back of Sherlock's balls, a tiny bit of it hitting his desk.

Greg then lowered himself gently onto Sherlock's back. His breathing was heavy, Sherlock's finally starting to even out. He felt bad for lying on top of Sherlock, yet Sherlock was not pushing him off. Greg decided now was the time to breach the subject.

“You gonna tell me what prompted... _this_?” Greg asked weakly. “And don't say stress relief, there were less... messy ways of dealing with it,” Greg continued. Sherlock said nothing.Greg decided to take a guess. “If you wanted to just, um, sleep with me, you could have been more direct about it.”

Sherlock continued to stay quiet. Must have been right, then. Of course Sherlock would come up with some weird excuse, though he was surprised with how flimsy it was.

“Well... if you want to do this again, you could just ask. I'm clearly not against the idea, just so you know.” Greg offered. It was pretty easy conversing with Sherlock when he wasn't talking back. “And I don't know what you want, but I'll let that be up to you.”

Lestrade started to pick himself up off of Sherlock to pull his pants up.

“I have to go back to my paperwork. You can, um... stay here until you're ready to leave.” Greg said. As much as a quiet Sherlock was nice, he needed some sort of feedback. “Okay, well, I need you off my desk at least.”

Sherlock finally got up. He pulled his pants up, did his belt up, and sat in Greg's office chair. He didn't say anything else, he just stared off.

_Alright then_ , Greg thought to himself, and sat back at his desk.


End file.
